The Pigeon
by Jello Ink
Summary: This is going to be a surprise, for now it's an FF8 Squall POV version of The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe, but you just wait til I'm done! Really funny!!!


Disclaimer: I own neither Edgar Allen Poe (the morbid psycho), or FF8 (which is owned by Square). If I did, then I'd be a morbid psycho too. Albeit a RICH morbid psycho with a fandom for my work, but a psycho nonetheless. I don't own Eminem either. Hmm then I'd be a rich morbid psycho with an attitude! Cool!  
  
  
  
  
The Pigeon  
  
  
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered Seifer's leer-y,  
Over the many movies made by Laguna Loire,  
While I scowled, not very happy, suddenly there came a tapping,  
As of Eminem , gently rapping, rapping outside my chamber door,  
" 'Tis some Girl Scouts," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door;  
Selling cookies, nothing more."  
  
  
  
Ah, how vaguely I remember, it may have been in December,  
And each seperate dying ember burned my carpet on the floor.  
Eagerly I wished the morrow, someday I should really borrow  
From other SeeDs, a smile to shine upon the ditz we call Rinore,  
For the strange and perky maiden whom the General named Rinore  
Nameless here forevermore.  
  
  
  
And the shrill uncertain shrieking of each nail on the blackboard,  
Thrilled me--filled me with goosebumps never felt before,  
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,  
" 'Tis some visitor entreating entrance to my wallet's store,  
Some late visitor entreating entrance to my wallet's store.  
A salesman's pitch, and nothing more."  
  
  
Presently, my soul grew stronger, I found that I could wait no longer,  
"Sir," said I, "or madam, truly your forgiveness I implore,  
But the fact is, my life is crappy, and I sat here almost napping,  
Waiting for a good soul like yourself to listen to my worries of Rinore.  
Over my stony recollection I couldn't hear you." Here I opened wide the door,  
Darkness there, and nothing more.  
  
  
  
Deep into the blackness peering, long I stood there, my eyes tearing,  
Having drug induced hallucinations no mortal's ever had before;  
But the silence went unbroken, and the bat guano gave no token,  
And the only word there spoken was the fearful word,  
Rinore?, This I whispered, devils murmured back the word,  
"Rinore!" Merely this and nothing more.  
  
  
  
Back into my dorm room turning, all testosterone in me burning,  
Soon again I heard a tapping, something louder than before,  
"Surely," said I, "surely there is something banging on my window.  
Let me see, then, where's the branch, and this mystery explore.  
Let my teeth stop chattering, and this mystery explore.  
'Tis Zell eating, nothing more."  
  
  
  
Open here I flung the shutter, slamming my finger did I mutter,  
@%#$!, as in a pigeon stepped, looking like it had lived for years before,  
No greeting made he, no pot bought or smoked he;  
But with the grace of Homer Simpson, tried to perch above my chamber door,  
Perched at last, after falling several times to the floor,  
Looked with glazed eyes, and nothing more.  
  
  
  
Then I noticed hark! the shit! Left everywhere the pigeon went,  
Making me get the Swiffer, as of it I did implore,  
"This is hardwood, stupid bird!" I said, "can you, fowl,  
Answer me a riddle that's been troubling and more?  
I'll tell you the complex problem, it is this: four plus four."  
Quoth the pigeon, "Laguna Loire"  
  
  
  
I swear I was surprised to hear, speech from the pigeon in my ear,  
Though its answer little meaning, little relevancy bore;  
For the Stooges cannot help agreeing, scarcely has a living being  
(When not delusional) seen a speaking pigeon on his chamber door,  
Whether bird or chocobo on his chamber door,  
With such a name as Laguna Loire.  
  
  
  
But the pigeon, looking lonely, resigned itself to saying only,  
That one word, as if expressions thrice 'Whatever' it outpoured.  
Nothing else was ever uttered, even though its crap still spluttered,  
On the hardwood, as I muttered, "Other pigeons have flown before,  
On the morrow he will leave me, thank Hyne for my hardwood floor."  
Then the bird said, "Laguna Loire."  
  
  
  
Startled as the silence broken, by reply so aptly spoken,  
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only word. For sure.  
Freed from some abusing master, whom unmerciful disaster  
Did rip limb from limb faster, til his songs a burden bore,---  
And the annoyance of those two words the pigeon bore  
Of "Laguna--Laguna Loire"  
  
  
  
But the pigeon still insisted, on leaving my floors incrusted  
Straight I threw a leopard patterned sheet upon the floor, in front of my chamber door;  
Then upon the sheet absorbing, I looked down in silent mourning  
For the golden finish of my lovely hardwood floor,  
What had the balding, messy, ghastly, hoarse and ominous bird of yore  
Meant in croaking, "Laguna Loire"?  
  
  
  
Thus I sat thinking of an answer, wanting bad to drop my pants-er  
To the fowl, and moon him til I had settled the score;  
This time and more I sat pondering, my small brain onward wandering  
Mostly of a circus song and dancing monkeys on their bikes,  
Oh how I used to pity those dancing monkeys on their bikes,  
Screeching much like dear Rinore.  
  
  
  
Then I thought the air grew thicker, with cologne of a bad picker  
And the stench that it created chilled me to the core.  
"Wretch!"I cried, "Thou hast brought Chanel 5! Thou hast  
brought the favorite perfume of the girl we call Rinore.  
Stop, O stop reminding me of the girl we call Rinore!"  
Quoth the pigeon, "Laguna Loire."  
  
  
  
  
"Prophet!" said I, "bringing evil--prophet still, if Ward or devil!  
Whether Timber-sent, or whether Quisty tossed thee here ashore,  
All alone, yet uneffected, eating your stray scraps of bread  
Haunt this dorm, by gym socks haunted--tell me truly I implore:  
Who is--who is my father?--tell me--tell me I implore!"  
Quoth the pigeon, "Laguna Loire."  
  
  
  
"Prophet!" said I, "bringing evil--prophet still, if Ward or devil!  
By the Grat I slayed this morning, by Hyne whom we both adore--  
Tell this soul with sorrow laden, if he has a chance in Haden,  
Will I score with the virgin maiden, whom the General named Rinore---  
Score with the hopefully horny maiden, whom the General named Rinore?"  
Quoth the pigeon, "Laguna Loire."  
  
  
  
"Be that name our cause for parting, feathered fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting,  
"Get thee back in thy dumpster or thy home upon the floor!  
Leave no feathers as a token of the lies thy soul hast spoken!  
Leave my fragile heart unbroken--get the @$#% off of my door!  
Remove thy beak from my heart, and thy shit from upon the floor!"  
Quoth the pigeon, "Laguna Loire."  
  
  
  
And the pigeon, never flitting, still is sitting, STILL is sitting  
On the little ledge that sits above my chamber door,  
And his eyes have all the seeming of a dead squirrel, its eyeballs gleaming  
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor,  
And looking up from there I saw a figure frame my door  
None other than--Laguna Loire.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: More chapters to come! This will be Romance starting in the next chapter, (not between Squall and Laguna, don't worry) for now it only belongs in Humor. 


End file.
